Across a Crowded Room
by Roofran411
Summary: A woman looks across a crowded room to find a man watching her. She knows he wants her. She wants him too. He is married. So is she.


Across a Crowded Room 

My Continuing thanks to the Swan of Avon, to his acolyte Sally Wainwright for her part. To Rufus Sewell and Shirley Henderson for the delight they continue to give me each time I watch their performances.

I write my stories purely for my own entertainment and acknowledge freely that the Taming of the Shrew does not belong to me.

This is a naughty little story so I have given it an **M** rating

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The words of the song Some Enchanted Evening written by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II fit this story exactly.

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Some Enchanted Evening

.

Some enchanted evening,

You may see a stranger

You may see a stranger

Across a crowded room.

And somehow you know,

You'll know even then,

That somewhere you'll see her again and again.

.

Some enchanted evening

Someone may be laughing.

You may see her laughing,

Across a crowded room

And night after night

As strange as it seems.

The sound of her laughter may sing in your dreams

.

Who can explain it?

Who can tell you why?

Fools give you reasons.

Wise men never try

.

Some enchanted evening

When you find your true love

When you hear her call you

Across a crowded room,

Then fly to her side

And make her your own

Or all through your life you may dream all alone.

Once you have found her.

Never let her go.

Once you have found her

Never let her go.

.

ACROSS A CROWDED ROOM

.

She saw a sliver of light flick, and then disappear across the room. The faintest click as the lock slid into place.

The louvre blinds across the windows shut the afternoon sun out, making the room dim with only glimmers of light dappling it.

He had come.

She closed her eyes.

Her breath was coming fast.

A soft clunk; his belt?

She didn't move.

She felt his breath against her face.

He slid under the bedclothes onto her.

His body on hers.

His skin against hers.

. . . . .

_Some guests had arrived that morning; several the evening before. _

_She had arrived at the Presidential retreat late that morning and had freshened up before going to the President's had lodge for lunch. The visit had been arranged as a relaxing weekend during a gruelling tour, but many things had conspired to shorten it, so that it was not be for more than a few hours._

_After lunch, the ladies were to have been escorted by the First Lady to visit the local places of interest for an afternoon of sightseeing; this had been curtailed to just shopping or poolside lounging for those who preferred. And the men were to have a few hours to relax, swim or skeet shooting if they preferred._

_She was chatting with other guests in the salon prior to lunch, when she looked up and saw a man, in another group, across the room. _

_He was watching her. _

_She looked down and away, and then back. He was still watching her. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen; he took her breath away._

_He continued to look at her and she had a sharp stab in her crotch and she began to throb. She looked away fast but she knew._

_She knew from the way he watched her, that he wanted her. She knew too that he meant to have her and she wanted him. They went into the dining room for lunch, it was very informal; guests could sit where they liked. _

_She chose to sit at the same table. He was sitting immediately opposite her._

_They didn't speak; a slight tip of the head, the acknowledgement of strangers. He continued to watch her even when he was talking to his neighbours. She would look away; each time she looked back, he was watching her, the smallest of smiles in his eyes._

_They had begun the main course when she felt it: a slight pressure on her foot._

_She moved her foot but the pressure followed. She moved her foot again._

_When it followed again, she gave it a sharp little kick. He looked at her with another of his faint mocking smiles._

_The pressure stopped for a few moments, and then a sock clad foot caressed her calf._

_Her throb was a drumbeat now._

_After her plate had been removed, she scooted her chair closer to the table and sitting right on the edge of it, slipped her shoe off. She looked towards him but her eyes did not meet his, sliding past to look over his shoulder. She put her foot into his lap and rubbed it. She felt triumphantly rewarded by his almost instantaneous erection and that he had to hide his sharp intake of breath by covering his mouth with his hand. She could see on his little finger, an antique signet ring, with a deeply engraved crest. His other hand, resting on the table, wore a heavy gold wedding band. _

_She wriggled her toes against him throughout dessert._

_She made her decision._

_She refused coffee and stood._

"_I have a headache." she murmured to the White House aide who came to her.  
"I will not be joining with the party this afternoon. Would you make my excuses to the First Lady?"_

_She refused help._

_"A few hours rest; that's all I need and I will be fine."_

. . . . .

"You came"

His mouth on her throat, he whispered "Did you think I wouldn't?

He ran his tongue along it. She gasped.

"Sshh!" he said. "There are people about."

"I thought everyone had gone."

"No. Security " he whispered. "And the walls are quite thin. I was made quite aware last night."

He kneed her thighs apart and he was in her.

Oh God, he was big, so big.

She moaned, he put his fingers on her lips,

"Sshhh Shh!"

"You're so big."

Another thrust and he filled her.

"And you are so small, so tight."

He moved against her.

"You're shaved?"

His surprise was clear in his murmur.

"Waxed." she hesitated, a slightly anxious note in her voice. "You don't like waxing?"

He moved against her again and she gasped.

"Well, it must be interesting to go down on."

"Is that what you are intending?"Her tone was tarter now.

His almost silent laughter was hot behind her ear.

"Well, yes, that is exactly what I am intending; I am intending to do everything that I know to you and I hope that you are going to reciprocate."

. . . . .

She was lying languorously on her front; he was lying beside her, kissing her ear, whispering into it, his hand trailing lightly up and down her back when they heard distant voices and the faint chink of metal, of feet on the gravel paths. She lifted her head to listen.

"You must go. How will you manage?"

"Infiltrate the one of the groups of stragglers." She could hear the laughter in his voice.

"Security?"

"That's my worry."

He ran his mouth down her spine and kissed her bottom.

"Lovely arse." and kissed it again, a long sucking kiss.

"You sod! Go! Go! Now!"

He was gone.

She was sticky with sweat and the room smelt of sex.

She slept for a short while, and was woken by a tap at the door.

"Ma'am. Ma'am, it is six o'clock. Your transport will be leaving in thirty minutes."

"Yes, yes. Thank you."

'

He had arrived back at the White House.

Dinner was more formal. Black tie.

He checked his name on the small board outside the dining room, then hers; he was on the First Lady's table, she was not.

He was talking to the British Ambassador when she came in. He watched her move across the room; beautiful, poised, assured, in a plain black dinner gown. Short sleeved, its high neck fastened down the front with numerous tiny jet buttons, it fell in a straight line to her ankles, just skimming her figure. Her only jewellery was a pair of diamond stud earrings and her wide gold wedding ring.

God! He had wanted her and he had known that she had wanted him. How he was going to get her into bed had been his problem but it had happened. A couple of glorious hours, until they heard the murmur of voices and footsteps as the groups of guests returned and she had dismissed him like a schoolboy.

_"You must go!"she had said._

He had left her but it had fired him. He would be back again. He wanted it and so did she. Now all he had to do was to fight his need till he could get into her bed again.

Dinner over, they all moved into the salon for coffee. He was served a cup and he looked around. He saw her across the room. Their eyes met briefly without acknowledgement and moved on.

When she moved to the table for a second cup, he was there beside her, to refill his cup. Carefully, unobtrusively, manoeuvring her to the window recess, he leaned one shoulder against the wall: the breadth of his back shielding her from the view of the other guests.

He put his coffee down on the small table beside him.

"Do you make a habit of this afternoon?"

"What?"He took her cup now and set it down.

"Slipping into the bedrooms of married women when their husbands are otherwise occupied?"

He shrugged one shoulder, the naughtiest of smiles on his mouth.

"Mmm. Bedrooms, offices, broom cupboards, bathrooms, limos." he murmured. "And I have always fancied it in a lift, but it's something I've never managed. I wonder which would be best? Going up or going down? What do you think?"

"I think you are being lewd."

"Me?" His eyes were mocking her.

"And your wife?"

"My wife? I don't think she's done it either. Oh! Oh, I see. You mean does she . . . in other . . .?" he shrugged again. "She's not averse to it."

"How long has it been going on?"

"From the beginning." There was a hint of surprise in his voice.

"The beginning? Of your marriage?" she whispered fiercely. "How long have you been married?"

He raised one eyebrow and blew out a long considering breath.

"Ten years? . . . I suppose . . . my wife could tell you with more certainty."

"Bastard."

He reached out and rubbed his thumb along her bottom lip.

She closed her mouth over it, sucked it and bit the fleshy pad.

He caught his breath: their eyes still held.

"Do you know the effect that has on me?"

She did it again.

His hand moved down her throat undoing the tiny buttons of her high necked dress

He saw a purpling love bite on her neck.

He opened four, five more and let his hand drift in to rest on the swell of her breast, then he flipped the collar back and saw another love bite. His eyes, wide with feigned polite surprise, met hers.

"There's an even bigger one on my behind. And several on my ...you know where... "

She bit her lip.

"Aahh! I knew waxing would be ...interesting."

"Bastard!" she called him again.

"You _loved_ it."  
She gasped and raised her hand to slap him.

He caught it.

"AhAh. My wife knows that it isn't wise to slap me."

She tried to pull her hand away.

He grinned at her.

"Wild cat."

And released it.

They stared at each other for a few minutes. She bit her lip and then she hid her face on his shoulder, laughing softly.

"I'm still swollen and I'm throbbing everywhere. You are a sod."

He laid his hand gently along her cheek, and pressed his mouth to her hair.

"Yes."

"Ah! Lord Charlbury!"

Startled, he swung around, stepping sideways to shield her.

The President's aide stood behind him.

"Lord Charlbury, the President would like you to join him and the First lady. The film is ready to be shown."

"Thank you, Mr. Smithson, I shall be with you right away."

"Um, do you have any idea where the Prime Minister is?"

Charlbury stepped aside, with a little courtly gesture of his hand.

"Oh! Oh! There you are, Prime Minister. The President would like a very brief word with you before the screening. If you would care to join me, I will escort you and Lord Charlbury to the viewing room."

"Of course." She moved ahead, fiddling with the buttons at the neck of her dress.

Smithson accompanied Lord Charlbury behind her.

"The Prime Minister will be sitting next to the President and you will be sitting with the First Lady."

"That will be delightful."

"We have a new film, just out. I believe it is very good..._' Abraham Lincoln Vampire H__unter_'."

He smothered a snort of laughter.

"Quite so." Mr Smithson smiled with him."Erm, Lord Charlbury, I am sorry to have interrupted your conversation with the Prime Minister. It is most difficult, is it not, for married couples to have a private word together at these week end functions."

"Oh! We manage, Mr Smithson, we manage."

They left him at the arched entrance to the lobby of the viewing room. He leaned one shoulder against the wall as Smithson escorted the Prime Minister through the crowd.

He watched his wife re- assuming her role as a world leader.

Head up, shoulders back, spine straight.

Power in every inch of her tiny frame.

He studied the toe of his shoe and wondered how long the film was.

Maybe two hours?

Three hours before she would be in his arms, in their bed.

He looked up to see her standing beside the President on the top of the three steps that led into the viewing room.

Her eyes searched the crowded room till they met his.

He smiled at her.

She smiled back at him, dazzling him.

Soon now, my love.

And he went to join them.

.


End file.
